the whistle blew
and our entire
gym class was off,
charging down
the football field
like a stampeding
herd of buffalo
the pounding footsteps
thundered in our ears,
the earth turned
under our feet–
we all knew how
important this first
race against
our peers was
it was a sorting;
something that could
set a pattern, a template
for all time
nobody wanted to be
that kid that came
in last that day
so we ran for our lives
yet, if I knew then
what I know now
I would’ve walked
At the table
On Thanksgiving,
My mother
Would implore
Every child
To annunciate
Just what they’re
Thankful for.
I’d always say
I’m thankful
For the meal,
If you please,
And now I’d say
I’m thankful
For those
Precious
Memories.
nature’s mirrors are
as perfectly imperfect
as our memories
–photo by me
We were only two ‘ludes
Or so out of Minneapolis,
When we came upon the
Old St. Croix River bridge
Bringing us to Wisconsin.
We were really pumped
For our first Spring Break
And just couldn’t wait to
Arrive at Daytona Beach.
Well, just then we had a
Spring break on my old
’53 Chevy pick-up truck,
So we sat there a while,
smoking a couple joints
While we contemplated
The fate of the universe
And our latest situation.
Then, the acid came on.
I do vaguely remember
The six of us wandering
Around amongst some
Very freaked-out cattle,
With Dan blowing cows
massive shot-guns until
They were quite baked.
Meanwhile, the rest of
us were singing, I think.
I laughed so hard, my gut
Hurt for a couple weeks.
None of us can recollect
How we’d made it home.
We never did make it to
Spring Break back in ’74,
But my only true regret
Is that I lost my custom
Hippie ’53 Chevy truck!
I remember when as a young boy
playing house pilot in my F-16
I would throttle back and
rapidly descend into
my mom’s junk
jewelry box
where I
would
glide
over
the
odd
world
of metals
and watches
and alien stones
and was so bewitched
I had to fire the afterburner
to make sure I’d clear the far wall
–photo by me
the ore is all gone
it was gone long ago
yet folks lingered on
they had nowhere to go
now even the ghosts
have dissolved in the heat
the only things left
are this side-walk and street
i remember the street
on the fourth of july
we stood on the curb
my best friend and i
with firetruck sirens
and flashing lights on
but it’s history now
the ore is all gone
–photo by me
michaeljordahl 